


I tell myself I don't care that much, but I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch

by JuliaBaggins



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8144626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/pseuds/JuliaBaggins
Summary: After months of secretly pining for each other and a party that involved some alcohol, Enjolras and Grantaire have spent the night together. The following morning happens differently from what they expected, and it takes some time until they finally speak about what happened...(Or, a story in which everything would be so much easier if certain people would just talk about their feelings)





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras woke up to a bright morning sun shining through his window. He yawned, opened his eyes - and stopped. Because though he woke up in his own bed, like he did on every Saturday morning, he wasn't alone, and this was rather unusual. There was a mess of dark curls on the pillow next to Enjolras, a shoulder decorated with dots of blue and yellow paint visible where the blanket had slipped down and Enjolras couldn't fight the bright smile that found its way to his face.

 

While he looked at Grantaire's sleeping form, his sleepy mind supplied some of yesterday's events - their protest that had been a surprise success with way more participants than they had hoped for, the party afterwards, one or two glasses of wine with Ferre... And suddenly, Enjolras had found himself standing next to Grantaire, so close that he could have counted the freckles on the other man's nose, and R had smiled at him, a sparkle in his deep green eyes. And for once, Enjolras couldn't resist, he did what his heart had wanted to do for months now, and kissed the cynic.

For a second, he had thought it to be a mistake, Grantaire frozen beneath the touch of his lips, but then, oh, then he started to kiss back, and it had felt like the first ray of sunshine after weeks and weeks of grey November-clouds, like fireworks, like everything he had ever dreamed of. Enjolras had been unaware of his friends’ cheers, of money travelling from one person to the other; there was nothing but Grantaire, his curls oh so soft under Enjolras' hands, his lips on his own, Grantaire's fingers slipping under Enjolras' shirt... And somehow, they had ended up in his apartment, and the thoughts of the following events caused Enjolras to blush.

 

A soft noise escaped Grantaire's lips and Enjolras thought he might wake up, but he didn't, he only shifted a bit in his sleep and buried his face deeper in the pillow. Enjolras risked a glance at the clock at his bedroom wall, a silhouette of Paris cut out of an old vinyl record via laser (a present from Courf for his last birthday), and saw that it was already 10:27. A good time for a nice late breakfast in bed, wasn't it? Enjolras placed a soft kiss in Grantaire's curls, whispered "I'll be right back." and hurried to the kitchen. There, he started his coffee machine, had a look around, another one - and frowned. He hadn't expected a guest for breakfast when he did his last grocery shopping, especially not his long time crush after what had been one of the best nights of his life, and now, he didn't really have much supplies to use for a nice breakfast.

Enjolras hurried to put on his jeans that he found on the living room floor (and no, he wouldn't think about how they had gotten there now, he needed to focus or otherwise he'd just go back to Grantaire and none of them would get breakfast any time soon), grabbed his wallet and keys and hurried out of the flat. There was a lovely little bakery store just around the corner and if there weren't too many people there he would be back right when the coffee was finished.

But oh, what was that? Enjolras stopped in front of the old lady that stood there behind her little booth, flowers of all colors in front of her and a kind smile on her lips. When Enjolras left her with a bouquet of blood red roses in his left hand a moment later he was smiling too; he bought two croissants, a small bread and a strawberry tarte, and then he caught himself nearly running back to his building. A girl he passed at the street smirked when she saw him, bed hair, in his sleeping shirt, with roses, a bag full of deliciously smelling bakery goods and the silliest grin possible on his face, and he couldn't care less. There was exactly one thing he cared about at the moment, and this was a certain dark haired cynic sleeping in his bed and the possibility of kissing him a good morning.

 

Two minutes later, Enjolras opened the door to his apartment, keys slightly shaking in his hand because of his excitement, he put the bag down on his kitchen counter and carefully opened the bedroom door, roses ready in his hand, smile on his lips.

When he found his bed unoccupied, the smile made room for a confused expression. Enjolras stepped closer, even lifted the blankets - no, Grantaire really wasn't in his bed. Enjolras quickly turned to the bathroom door and knocked.

"R?", he asked softly.

There was no answer.

"Grantaire?", louder this time.

When there was still no one answering, Enjolras slowly opened the bathroom door, only to find it empty. He turned back to the bedroom, walked into the living room, had a look into the kitchen, just to be sure... And Grantaire was nowhere to be found. He had left, without a word or even a note.

 

Enjolras didn't notice the roses slipping out of his hand as he sat down heavily at his sofa and buried his head in his hands. This was not how he had imagined this morning, not at all. And internally, he cursed himself for his stupid crush and his stupid hopes. _Like last night would have meant anything_ , he thought while a tear may have slipped down his cheek…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the nice comments on the first chapter, they were really encouraging! ♡

Grantaire felt as if the sun was mocking him. It was unusually nice weather for late September; a warm breeze ruffling through his curls while he watched how bright rays of sunshine turned the Seine’s surface into a moving carpet of diamonds. There were people around him, laughing, enjoying the sun, and all this strangers’ happiness was like a stab to his heart, a brutal contrast to how miserable he felt himself.

After walking around for some time, just for the sake of it, he finally sat down at a low stone wall that offered a view of the river. It was too beautiful to stand it, so Grantaire fixed his gaze on his hands. They were shaking, light tremors running through his whole body, and he desperately wished he had some sunglasses with him. Hiding the tears in his eyes behind them wouldn’t feel as pathetic as burying his face in his hands, but when he had left Enjolras’ apartment in a rush about half an hour ago, he hadn’t paid much attention to taking his things with him. And now that he thought about it, he was not even sure if he had sunglasses with him at the protest or the following party yesterday.

 

And with that, his thoughts turned to the party. Again. Fuck. At first he had been dancing with Jehan, some beers with Bossuet, everything had been alright, _normal…_ Until Enjolras had appeared at his side, looking better than ever with the slight blush on his cheeks and the smile playing around his lips, and just when Grantaire had been thinking of ways how to best paint that smile, it had happened. Enjolras had kissed him. And Grantaire had kissed him back.

He shouldn't have done this, he should have pushed Enjolras away when he had kissed him, shouldn't have let his own wishful thinking get the better of him when Enjolras was drunk and not thinking clearly but oh, how he had wanted to believe him, how he had wished this to be true...

And while Enjolras kissed him, the logical part of Grantaire’s brain seemed to disappear, and when he thought about it now, he hated himself for it. For believing that Enjolras out of all people might feel the same way that he did, that what they had might have been more than a one night stand one regrets in the morning. He had hoped, actually hoped that his Apollo might love him back when he had kissed him, when his soft fingers had painted patterns to his skin, and feeling this hopes crashed into tiny little pieces hurt worse than anything he could imagine...

 

He remembered waking up in the morning, unusually relaxed because though he hadn’t slept that much there had been no nightmares, none at all, and this was something special. There had been a second of confusion before he realized where he was, what had happened the previous night, and the smile that started to spread across his lips felt like it was getting too big for his face. He turned his head, looking for golden curls – and found nothing. Huh. The space in the bed next to him was still warm so Grantaire got up, putting on a shirt he found on the floor on his way to the kitchen and looked around there.

“Enjolras? Hello?”

 

While he sat there at the wall, his eyes following a ship at the river without really seeing it, he remembered the exact moment he had realized that Enjolras was nowhere in his flat. That he was gone, had left, and all Grantaire could think of was how he would be never able to look him in the eye again. And here he was, still in his flat, a presence so unwelcome that Enjolras had rather left his own home than bear the thought of waking Grantaire, of talking to him, looking into his face again. He had left, rushing out of the building as if he could get away from the pain in his chest as well. Which wasn’t working, of course. And so he had gotten here, taking shaky breaths and feeling like he was the only unhappy person in a sea of smiling faces. Not that this was something new, but it was a whole new level. Grantaire would have never thought that getting your heart broken could actually hurt that much.

Suddenly, a new awful thought appeared in Grantaire's mind. That Enjolras regretted what they had done seemed to be sure now, but what if... What if he didn't saw the last night as his drunk self making a stupid mistake but rather of Grantaire, his friend, taking advantage of him when he wasn't in his right mind? And it didn't matter anymore that Enjolras had been the one who had started the kissing - Grantaire was the one used to drinking while Enjolras was clearly not, he was the one who had kissed him back, who had wrapped his arms around him, who had… _Damn._

He wished none of this had ever happened, and this fact alone caused him to start crying again. Because the last night had been everything he had ever dreamed of, he could still feel Enjolras' soft lips grazing over his scars; because he had believed it… Because a tiny little _maybe_ hurt a lot less than a screaming _not ever, ever again._

Grantaire would have rather continued the way they had been - admiring ( _loving,_ he didn't allow himself to think) Enjolras from afar, but being able to talk to him, argue with him, even to be his friend. And what did he have now? A bittersweet glimpse of what he could never have as well as the conviction that the love of his life would never talk to him again. Great.

 

When a young couple got down on a bench right next to his wall, little giggles and sweet nonsense whispered into loving ears while the sun was highlighting their smiles, their happily shining eyes, Grantaire felt the need to run away again.

And so he did, letting his feet decide where they took him, and only when he stood in front of a bright green door he realized where he had gone. He sighed and rang the bell, and it was not much later that Joly’s face appeared in the doorframe.

“Grantaire?”

The smile that had been on his lips when he opened the door disappeared as soon as he saw the expression on his friend’s face, the half dried tears on his cheeks, the desperation in his eyes.

“What happened?”

Grantaire just shook his head and let himself be wrapped into Joly’s arms, melting into his embrace while the tears got to his eyes again, and when he later collapsed onto his sofa Joly just wrapped a blanket around him and made a cup of tea. He knew that Grantaire would talk to him as soon as he was ready, that he needed comfort rather than questions now, and if Joly noticed that Grantaire was wearing one of Enjolras’ shirts, he wisely chose not to comment on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How Thewonderfulthingaboutfish said so accurately, "miscommunication is the devil", and I promise there'll be some talking in the next chapter! ;)


	3. Chapter 3

When Grantaire woke up on Joly’s Couch in the evening, he yawned, rubbed his eyes and shook his head when he remembered the horrible dream he had dreamt. He sat up, stretching, while the nightmare’s images still played in his mind… _No._ When Grantaire looked down at himself and saw the blue shirt he was wearing, the shirt that was so very much not his, the realization that his nightmare hadn’t been one but actually the truth hit him like a blow to the chest. So he had really slept with Enjolras and now the blond hated him. Fucking wonderful. Grantaire wanted to hide behind his blankets and never leave them again.

What Grantaire didn’t knew was how at the same time, Enjolras was sitting in Combeferre’s and Courfeyrac’s living room, cuddled between his two best friends who tried to distract him with a Netflix marathon. But though he admired his friends’ efforts, Enjolras could not even have named the show they were watching – everything he was aware of was Combeferre’s hand that was softly playing with his hair and that hollow feeling, the numb pain in his chest.

 

On the next morning, a cloudy and stormy Sunday that shared nothing with yesterday’s bright weather, Enjolras opened his eyes in his friends’ guest room and decided to send Grantaire a text message. It took him about half an hour to type the four words and a few very deep breaths before he finally hit send, wondering the second he had done so if this had been the right decision. But he couldn’t change it now, so there was nothing left to do but waiting for Grantaire’s answer.

 _Can we talk about it?_ – sent 9:13 AM

Enjolras waited for a reply, looking anxiously at his phone screen every few seconds while Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged worried glances over their breakfast. When they had finished eating, Grantaire still hadn’t replied, he had not even read the message, and it hurt Enjolras’ broken heart even worse. The thought that Grantaire didn’t even saw the necessity to _read_ his text. 

_Please?_ – sent 10:36 AM

Another message that got not answered, and Enjolras sighed. So the artist really didn’t care. He would try to live with this, even if it hurt.

 

Combeferre and Courfeyrac suggested that they should go for a walk, drive somewhere, anything to get Enjolras’ mind off of what they had only heard about in broken sentences, but he refused. Everything Enjolras wanted to do was to get home, and so the two of them accompanied him there, grabbing some coffee on the way and promising to come back in the evening. They understood that their friend needed some time to himself and even if they hadn’t done so, they knew just how stubborn their leader could be. So both of them hugged him tightly at his doorstep and Enjolras thanked them with a sad smile before he let himself into his flat. There, he took a long hot shower, made himself a cup of tea and then wrapped himself in an oversized knitted sweater before he sat down in his comfy armchair. Raindrops were playing a monotone melody against Enjolras’ apartment’s high windows and the greyness outside felt like a perfect representation of how miserable he felt.

 

It became afternoon, it was still raining and after arguing with himself for hours, finally Enjolras couldn’t stand it anymore. If Grantaire wouldn’t answer his texts, fine, but he wouldn’t leave it like that. He would tell the other man how he felt, how much their night had meant to him, even if they couldn’t be friends after that anymore. Everything would be better than this silence filled with uncertainity.

So he dialed Grantaire’s number with shaking fingers, waited… And suddenly, there was music filling Enjolras’ living room. 

_Live life for another_  
_Take time for a brother_  
_Fight for the weak ones_  
_Speak out for freedom_

The man’s words filled Enjolras’ ears and he followed his voice until he saw it. There was a black phone on the floor right next to one of his bookshelves, and it was still ringing when Enjolras picked it up.

_Find faith in the battle_  
_Stand tall but above it all_  
_Fix my eyes on you_  
_I fix my eyes on you_

Realization took a moment to set in, the knowledge of what it meant that he had this phone in his hands – it was Grantaire’s. So he had left it here, forgotten. He hadn’t gotten Enjolras’ texts at all.

Enjolras was looking down at his own face, at the profile picture Grantaire had set for him. He was shown from the side, not looking into the camera, his eyes closed while he was laughing about something long forgotten. It was… _unusual_. Enjolras was aware of how he looked in most photos taken of him, be it in group pictures with his friends or in shots attached to articles about their protests, and this was not it. In Grantaire’s photo he recognized a version of himself he did not often allow himself to be – one that was happy and not thinking about much more than how he could spend a nice day with his friends. Enjolras was impressed how one single picture was able to cause him to think about himself so much, how nice Grantaire’s chosen angle made him look, and oh, he had had no clue that he wasn’t only an artist but also a photographer.

Suddenly, the photo vanished and got replaced by a text that announced two missed calls, one from _Jolyyy_ and one from an _Apollo._ Enjolras swallowed and before he could think about it too much, he called Joly’s number.

 

“R?”

“No, sorry, this is Enjolras…”

“What are you doing with Grantaire’s phone?”

“That’s kind of a long story, but please, could you answer me a question first?”

“Okay.”

“So, would you say that Grantaire… likes me?”

 _“What?!”_ , Joly nearly shouted into the phone and Enjolras closed his eyes while he gripped the phone tightly in his hand.

“I just, I saw the photo he set as my profile picture, and it was quite nice, so I wondered…”

“Enjolras. Stop. You are _not seriously_ asking me if R likes you, are you?”

“I am”, Enjolras answered, confusion audible in his voice.

“Listen. This is not my part to tell you, and I don’t know what exactly happened between the two of you after the party on Friday, but… well. To say that R _likes_ you would be an understatement.”

“What.”

“Enjolras…”, Joly started, but he wasn’t sure of what to say, and when Enjolras started speaking again, he got surprised by his question.

“Why did he never tell me?”

“I think he was scared. Of how you might react. And, you know, when you two were kissing at the party, I think he… Please. Enjolras, I really shouldn’t be the person you have this conversation with.”

“Just one more thing. Have you seen him since Friday?”

“Yes. He turned up on Saturday morning, after… leaving your place.”

“But, Joly, if what you’re saying is true, if he likes me, then why would he leave?”

“Enjolras… you were the one who left first. And I think he felt guilty, for…”

“I left? And _guilty?_ Why would he..?”

“Jesus, Enjolras, he told me that you’d have never even kissed him had you been sober and that he h-, no, _please_. Just _talk to him_ , will you?”

“Of course. I’ll do so right now. Is he still with you?"

"No, he went home earlier today."

"Okay. I'm on my way. And, Joly – thank you.”

Enjolras did not hear Joly’s answer because he was already storming out of his apartment, nothing on his mind but the need to convince Grantaire of just how very much he wanted to kiss him, not only when he was drunk at a party but preferably at various times of every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I used as a ringtone here is "Fix my Eyes" by For King & Country


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got really surpised when I looked through my unfinished stories and saw this one cause I honestly wasn't aware that I had never posted the last chapter xD
> 
> So, sorry about that, and here you go, just a few months late ;D

While there had been glorious sunshine just the day before, Paris presented itself in the greyest monotony one could imagine at the time that Enjolras rushed out of his flat. He hadn’t even thought of bringing a jacket along with him; too much in a hurry to get to Grantaire’s place, Joly’s words still ringing in his ears. 

_To say that R likes you would be an understatement._

Enjolras thought about that, went through Friday’s events once again in his head, this time trying not to include the next morning. Just the party, the kisses, the touches, them falling asleep in each other’s arms. And it fitted, as well as the way they sometimes looked at each other during meetings, glances lingering a moment longer for them to be coincidental. So Grantaire really held affectionate feelings towards Enjolras.

_Jesus, Enjolras, he told me that you’d have never even kissed him had you been sober._

And Grantaire had no idea just how very much Enjolras returned these feelings. Enjolras feared he knew the reason for this, that his friend would think something like himself not being good enough for Enjolras under usual circumstances. How very wrong he was here, to think so low of a man who held so many talents, whom Enjolras not only admired for his passion and his love for his friends but also a hundred reasons more. What an injustice towards himself Grantaire committed by thinking that Enjolras wouldn’t be the luckiest man on earth to be the object of his affection. And if there had been one thing that Enjolras always had been passionate about, it was fighting injustices.

 

When he arrived at Grantaire’s door, Enjolras’ shirt was soaking wet, his curls clung dimply to his forehead and he was freezing. And though he was determined to tell Grantaire so many things, he didn’t really know where to start – finding an opener for a conversation as well as for a speech was never his favourite part of it.

Taking a deep breath, Enjolras rang the bell and took Grantaire’s phone out of his pocket, waiting for the man to open his door. When he finally did, Enjolras got the impression that Grantaire’s first impulse would have been to shut the door right in his face. But he didn’t, put on a blank mask that wasn’t quite able to hide the expression that his eyes held, the one that Enjolras wished he could kiss away.

“You forgot your phone”, Enjolras started, scolding himself internally in the same moment for letting this be the first thing that escaped his mouth in this conversation that could be so very important.

“Oh. Yeah, thanks for giving it to me. And please, even if you don’t wanna hear this, I have to say it, and I’ll understand if you want to never see me again, but I need you to know just how sorry I am, and I wish I hadn’t…”

Enjolras swallowed, preparing himself for asking his next question. But he had to be sure what exactly Grantaire was thinking here to tell him just how very much it wasn’t the case.

 

“Please. Can you- Grantaire, please tell me what exactly you’re sorry for.”

“I’m sorry about last night. Kissing you, and everything. I’m sorry for sleeping with you”, Grantaire whispered while he studied his socks.

He couldn’t look at Enjolras, but if he had done so, he might have noticed the pained expression that passed his face.

“And why are you sorry about this?”

“Because you were drunk and I know you wouldn’t have-, I knew that you weren’t in your right mind at that time, but I- “

And there, Enjolras decided to intervene.

“So Joly was right”, Enjolras murmured.

Grantaire shot him a short, questioning look, unsure if he wanted to know about what Enjolras might have talked with Joly.

“You think I only kissed you because I was drunk, and that I would… that I’d _regret_ it now, what we did”, the blond explained.

Grantaire only nodded, gaze fixed on his socks once again.

“Jesus, Grantaire, you’re an idiot”, Enjolras whispered, and it was said in the sweetest voice Grantaire had ever heard.

Hesitating, he looked up, meeting Enjolras’ bright eyes.

“Wait, I’m sorry about how I worded this. Of course you aren’t an idiot, you’re one of the smartest persons I know, but in this case… Just listen to me. I wasn’t _that_ drunk. On Friday night, I’ve still been very aware of what I was doing, I was in my right mind, and the only thing that differed compared to us meeting under different circumstances was that this bit of alcohol was just what I needed to gather my courage together and kiss you. Finally. Because I had wanted to do that for a _very long_ time. I really enjoyed kissing you. Just as everything else we did. I enjoyed every second and I was consent with all of it. Grantaire, I- I loved it. Being with you, and I- I’m sorry you thought I’d feel any different about this cause I don’t.”

Grantaire carefully, slowly raised his hand, hovering just next to Enjolras’ cheek for a moment before he gently touched it.

“So you like me too?”, he asked in a whisper.

“Yes, yes I do. Grantaire, I’m very much enamored of you.”

 

For the first time since that Saturday morning, a smile graced Grantaire’s face, and when it got mirrored on Enjolras’, it was as if the sun would be shining just for them, while they stood there in the Paris rain.

“Can I kiss you?”, Grantaire asked while his hand moved from Enjolras’ cheek into his curls, and Enjolras didn’t waste words to answer. There would be a time to talk about all of this longer, to exchange words and truths and promises, but right now, it wasn’t that time. Now, it was the time for kissing in the rain, and Enjolras couldn’t remember the last moment he had felt so happy and so at peace with the world.

.  
.  
.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Paloma Faith's "Only love can hurt like this"
> 
> If you could take the time to leave a nice comment you'd make my day! ♡


End file.
